On this date in 1835 Andrew Carnegie was born in Dunfermline, Scotland. Known now mostly for his role in the famous joke: “How do I get to Carnegie Hall? Practice,” he was in fact a well-known industrialist and philanthropist in his day. His dad was a weaver and political radical and instilled in Andrew strong feelings for social justice and equality.
When he was twelve, Andrew worked as a milkhand for $1.20 a week, roughly equivalent to what a CUNY professor makes today. He amassed a fortune in the steel industry, then sold his business and gave it all away, establishing, among many other things, the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and 2,811 libraries. He also donated 7,689 organs to churches to, as he put it, “lessen the pain of the sermons,” thus putting a different slant on the term “organ donor.” (OK, OK, I’ll pipe down. (Hi Carl!))
This poem by Max Early is called “Delayza’s Necklace.” It’s today’s “Poem-A-Day” from Poets.org.
We enter to sounds of bells.
The hall’s warmth evokes
an imprint of my small self
standing by my grandparents.
Their presence I sense
in drums and singers’ voices.
Collective breath of all colors
hovers above the leaping herd.
Eagle and hawk feathers adorn
the deer dance’s rhythmic scent—
forest evergreen, damp earth.
Delayza puts her hand in mine.
The seated crowd hinders her view.
I lift her above the masses—
a butterfly beyond reach.
Her irises bloom to the choir
and drumbeats rumbling
nearby snowflakes.
I set her among the gold straw flecks
glistening on the mud plastered floor.
Her body sways back and forth,
she stands on tiptoe
to see over the crowd.
A charcoal faced hunter
in camouflage shirt and jeans
trots towards the small child.
He places a coral bead necklace
over her head as she smiles
at her new delight.
In the puzzle today, “*to wrangle, per an idiom” was LIKE HERDING CATS. I don’t recall seeing this ad on TV, but veteran Rexblog commenter Nancy shared it. (Love the lint roller.)
Here’s some personal material Rex posted today. I’m sharing it because it’s about a dad and his daughter and it’s sweet.
Daughter’s home for Thanksgiving week—we saw Wicked yesterday (starring Cynthia ERIVO of last Sunday’s puzzle fame). I don’t think I’d been out to the movies alone with my kid, just me and her, since … like, Madagascar (2005)? No, Happy Feet (2006)? Something like that. So fun. She’s taller now, and has a bigger vocabulary, so the experience is slightly different, but still a joy. I think the thing I’m proudest of though, is that when I asked her what snacks she wanted from the concession stand, her unhesitating reply was “Popcorn, Junior Mints.” That’s … that’s my movie snack order [single tear rolls down my cheek]. “She’d grown up just like me / My girl was just like me…”
Headline in The Onion: Billionaire Who Bought Banana Duct-Taped To Wall for $6.2 Million Plans To Eat It.
Pardon my crowing, readers, but a post of mine in the Dull Men’s Club (UK) generated 8 “likes,” one “wow,” and 67 comments! There’ll be no talking to me for a while, not that anyone talks to me anyway.
Here’s the post with the photo I attached:
I have this mug that I like. For one thing, it has a bunny on it. But if I’m drinking coffee and it has cooled down, when I go to zap it in the microwave it says on the bottom Do Not Microwave. I saw online that this may be because it has little bits of metal in it and can spark, or is too thick and may heat unevenly. But it hasn’t sparked and seems to heat well enough. Can I ignore the warning or will something horrible happen, like I’ll be poisoned somehow? (Apologies if you deem this insufficiently dull.)
Andy Spragg: Definitely sufficiently dull.
Andy Lucas: The bunny will slide off the mug down the plug hole if using a microwave, maybe put it in the freezer for an hour to confuse it.
My reply: The bunny or the mug?
Murray Atkinson: If it says it on the bottom, how did you read it when full of coffee?
My reply: I was doing arm-lift exercises while holding it, glanced up and noticed it. Good question, though.
Tony Ross: Only the bottom can’t be microwaved. So just use a bottomless mug.
My reply: Some diners in the US offer a “bottomless cup of coffee.” I’ve never taken it literally before.
Igly Mark Harris: It will hold the radiation and release it into your bloodstream causing mutant growths all over your body.
My reply: Is that bad?
Matt McCree: Live life on the edge, ignore all warning labels and tread your own path.
Allister Rushforth: The blue paint contains lead and if you nuke it it softens and may turn the bunny green.
Finally, from Debbie Vogel:
Wear oven mitts when you remove it from the microwave. The cup will be hotter than the contents. Let it sit until the heat transfers out of the pottery and into the liquid. Stirring makes this happen faster. If it is not some type of pottery and is instead a plastic it has the potential to either melt or catch fire. I microwave my stoneware cups all the time. I have found the longer they have had to dry since last washing, the less hot they get. I assume the unglazed area on the bottom rim absorbs moisture when washed. That retained moisture then reacts under microwaving to heat the cup and create a burn hazard.
What?
If you’re like me, you think Arlo Guthrie’s famous song was called “Alice’s Restaurant.” You know — where you can get anything you want. That was the name of the album it was on, his first. But the song was actually “Alice’s Restaurant Massacree.” I mention it because Alice was Alice Brock, and she passed away last Thursday in Wellfleet MA (Hi Don and Jenny!) at the age of 83. It was a song/story combo plate, of course. Arlo was visiting Alice and her husband Ray for Thanksgiving and went to take some trash out to the city dump with a friend, actually quite a lot of trash. But the dump was closed so they added it to trash they saw was dumped in a ravine. It was traced back to them via some mail it contained, resulting in their arrest. Alice bailed them out, and they were fined $50 the next day in court. Much later, Arlo was able to avoid the draft due to his criminal record. This line in the song, a question Arlo asked at the induction center, sums up those crazy days as well as anything: “You want to know if I’m moral enough to join the Army, and burn women, kids, houses and villages after bein’ a litterbug?”
But this should be about Alice. She helped write the first half of the song. Arlo wrote the draft part. She was born in Brooklyn and attended Sarah Lawrence College but left during her sophomore year “to support unpopular causes.” She married and moved to Stockbridge MA with her husband and worked as a librarian in a private school. She was the shusher. (No she wasn’t.) She opened the restaurant, the “Back Room,” having been nagged into doing so by her mom. It was only open for a few years.
Director Arthur Penn made a film based on the song in 1968. Alice was a consultant and made a cameo appearance. Patricia Quinn played Alice in the movie. In one of those little twists life enjoys throwing at us, on the day the wedding of Alice and her husband was filmed for the movie, the actual couple’s divorce became official. This is Pat Quinn.
Her last years were marked by financial and health problems. A friend set up a GoFundMe site and it was mentioned in a story on NPR. More than $170,000 poured in from fans of the song in just a few days.
Alice is survived by three step-children, two grandchildren, one great-granddaughter, and two great-great-grandchildren, all of whom get anything they want.
Here are Alice and Arlo in 1977.
And here’s what it’s all about. If you’ve never heard it, it’s certainly worth 16 and a half minutes of your time. I’ve heard it a bunch of times, including just a few years ago when I saw Arlo perform in Newark with his beautiful daughter opening for him. Still enjoy it.
Rest in peace, Alice.
Thanks for dropping in.
The Wellington Files 